The card had no name on it.

That was why Mara stopped.

All the others around the fountain had names.

Photographs.

Flowers.

Little electric remembrance lights glowing inside coloured glass.

Some had long messages.

Some only a few words.

FOR MUM.

WE SAVED YOUR SEAT.

YOU STILL OWE ME FIVE MARKS.

Chibi had already declared:

YOU WOULD HAVE HATED THIS MUSIC.

the best one.

Then Mara found the card without a name.

She read it.

IF YOU’RE STILL THERE, I HOPE YOU CAN HEAR US.

Chibi read it over her shoulder.

For once, he didn’t say anything.

Behind them, the celebration continued.

Music.

Laughter.

People dancing.

Glasses touching.

Autopods moving beyond the square.

Bluetime had disappeared hours ago, leaving Doskvol beneath the dark interior of the Bubble.

Mara read the sentence again.

MARA:
“Do you think they can?”

CHIBI:
“Who?”

MARA:
“Whoever that’s for.”

CHIBI:
“I don’t know.”

MARA:
“Would you want them to?”

Chibi thought.

CHIBI:
“If I missed them?”

MARA:
“Yes.”

CHIBI:
“Yes.”

Mara looked at the little electric light beneath the card.

MARA:
“Even if you didn’t know what was listening?”

Chibi opened his mouth.

Then stopped.

CHIBI:
“Oh.”

MARA:
“Exactly.”

He looked at the card again.

CHIBI:
“That makes it worse.”

MARA:
“A little.”

CHIBI:
“A lot.”

MARA:
“Maybe.”

Chibi frowned.

CHIBI:
“You’ve been saying ‘maybe’ a lot.”

MARA:
“Because I don’t know.”

CHIBI:
“I don’t like not knowing.”

MARA:
“You usually make something up.”

CHIBI:
“That works surprisingly well.”

Mara smiled.

Then she looked again at the message.

IF YOU’RE STILL THERE, I HOPE YOU CAN HEAR US.

MARA:
“If you say something to someone who isn’t here…”

CHIBI:
“Yes?”

MARA:
“And you don’t know whether they can hear you…”

CHIBI:
“Yes?”

MARA:
“Who are you talking to?”

Chibi thought about it.

CHIBI:
“Them.”

MARA:
“But where are they?”

CHIBI:
“I don’t know.”

MARA:
“So you’re talking to somewhere you don’t understand.”

CHIBI:
“I suppose.”

MARA:
“And hoping something there listens.”

Chibi’s expression changed.

CHIBI:
“That sounds much worse when you say it like that.”

MARA:
“I know.”

They stood quietly.

The little light continued glowing.

Nothing happened.

No voice answered.

No photograph moved.

No impossible shadow crossed the fountain.

Nothing was there that hadn’t been there before.

Mara was glad.

Mostly.

CHIBI:
“You wanted something to happen.”

Mara looked at him.

MARA:
“No.”

Chibi stared.

MARA:
“Not really.”

He kept staring.

MARA:
“Maybe a little.”

CHIBI:
“I knew it.”

MARA:
“You did too.”

CHIBI:
“No.”

MARA:
“You were waiting.”

CHIBI:
“I was being vigilant.”

MARA:
“You were staring at the light.”

CHIBI:
“Vigilantly.”

Mara laughed.

Then a gust of wind crossed the square.

Several paper notes fluttered.

The nameless card lifted slightly.

Both children immediately looked at it.

Then at each other.

CHIBI:
“Wind.”

MARA:
“Yes.”

CHIBI:
“Definitely wind.”

MARA:
“Yes.”

Neither looked away.

CHIBI:
“Why are we still looking?”

MARA:
“I don’t know.”

That was the problem.

Once you allowed the possibility that something might mean more than it seemed to mean, ordinary things became harder to leave alone.

A flickering light.

A dream.

A sound in another room.

Someone turning their head at exactly the right moment.

A word appearing twice.

A feeling that told you not to go somewhere.

None of them had to mean anything.

Most probably didn’t.

But now Mara understood why people kept looking.

Because once you had asked—

What if?

—it was difficult to make the question completely disappear.

CHIBI:
“This could get stupid.”

MARA:
“Yes.”

CHIBI:
“Really stupid.”

MARA:
“Yes.”

CHIBI:
“We could decide everything is a sign.”

MARA:
“Yes.”

Chibi pointed towards a light across the square.

It flickered.

CHIBI:
“Message.”

MARA:
“Bad bulb.”

He pointed at a piece of paper moving over the pavement.

CHIBI:
“Message.”

MARA:
“Wind.”

A man in the crowd sneezed.

CHIBI:
“Message.”

MARA:
“Cold.”

The man sneezed again.

CHIBI:
“Two messages.”

MARA:
“Chibi.”

CHIBI:
“I’m demonstrating the problem.”

Mara tried not to smile.

CHIBI:
“Very scientifically.”

MARA:
“Stacy would hate your science.”

CHIBI:
“Stacy hates innovation.”

They walked away from the memorial lights.

A little farther around the fountain, the woman they had noticed earlier was sitting alone.

Eyes closed.

Listening.

Mara slowed.

Chibi noticed.

CHIBI:
“No.”

MARA:
“I didn’t say anything.”

CHIBI:
“You’re thinking.”

MARA:
“So are you.”

CHIBI:
“I’m thinking no.”

MARA:
“You don’t even know what I’m thinking.”

CHIBI:
“Yes, I do.”

MARA:
“What?”

CHIBI:
“You want to try.”

Mara looked at the woman.

Earlier she had told them that sometimes, when everything inside became quiet enough, it felt as though there was something underneath all the noise.

She had never said what.

She had never said it was supernatural.

She had never even said it was real.

Just:

Listen.

MARA:
“Aren’t you curious?”

CHIBI:
“Yes.”

MARA:
“Then why no?”

CHIBI:
“Because being curious doesn’t mean something is a good idea.”

Mara stared at him.

CHIBI:
“What?”

MARA:
“Who are you?”

CHIBI:
“I’m developing.”

MARA:
“I don’t like it.”

CHIBI:
“Neither do I.”

The woman opened her eyes.

She saw them.

She smiled.

Then stood and walked into the crowd.

The place beside the fountain was empty.

Mara looked at it.

Then at Chibi.

CHIBI:
“No.”

MARA:
“You already said that.”

CHIBI:
“I’m reinforcing it.”

MARA:
“Why?”

He looked back at the nameless card.

CHIBI:
“Because what if we hear something?”

Mara hadn’t expected that.

MARA:
“I thought you didn’t believe we would.”

CHIBI:
“I don’t.”

MARA:
“Then what’s the problem?”

CHIBI:
“What if I’m wrong?”

There it was.

Mara looked towards the empty place.

MARA:
“And what if we’re wrong the other way?”

CHIBI:
“What do you mean?”

MARA:
“What if there’s something and we never listen because we’re scared of imagining it?”

Chibi frowned.

That was worse.

If they expected something everywhere, they could fool themselves.

If they refused to listen at all, they could miss something.

CHIBI:
“Those are both terrible.”

MARA:
“Yes.”

CHIBI:
“Can we choose a third one?”

MARA:
“What?”

CHIBI:
“Cake.”

MARA:
“That isn’t an answer.”

CHIBI:
“It solves a surprising number of problems.”

Mara sat on the fountain.

Chibi sighed dramatically.

Then sat beside her.

CHIBI:
“If we get eaten, this was your idea.”

MARA:
“If we get eaten, I don’t think assigning blame will help.”

CHIBI:
“It will help me.”

MARA:
“How?”

CHIBI:
“I’ll be right.”

Mara closed her eyes.

CHIBI:
“Are we doing it now?”

MARA:
“Yes.”

CHIBI:
“What exactly are we doing?”

MARA:
“Listening.”

CHIBI:
“To what?”

MARA:
“I don’t know.”

CHIBI:
“This remains badly organised.”

He closed his eyes.

At first Mara heard the celebration.

Music.

Feet against stone.

People talking.

An engine.

Glasses.

Laughter.

The hum of electricity.

Chibi breathing beside her.

Everything had a name.

Everything had an explanation.

Mara tried not to use either.

Just listen.

A sound.

Another.

Something moving.

Someone laughing.

A low vibration beneath the music.

Her own heartbeat.

Don’t name it.

Don’t decide.

Listen.

For a few seconds, nothing happened.

Then the world felt different.

Not changed.

Different.

Mara could still hear every ordinary thing.

But suddenly it felt as though all those sounds were only the surface.

As though there might be depth beneath them.

She didn’t know why.

Her skin prickled.

Her heartbeat became faster.

She wanted to open her eyes.

She didn’t.

Then Chibi’s hand found hers.

Mara squeezed it.

Neither spoke.

Nothing appeared.

Nothing touched them.

Nothing whispered their names.

Nothing proved anything.

But Mara felt it again.

That strange sense that the world might continue beyond the part she could normally perceive.

Maybe it was expectation.

Maybe imagination.

Maybe music.

Maybe the strange effect of sitting with your eyes closed while hundreds of people celebrated around you.

Maybe something else.

Mara didn’t choose.

Not yet.

That was the difficult part.

To feel something without immediately deciding what it was.

To remain curious without believing.

To remain sceptical without running away.

To stay open—

but not defenceless.

Eventually Mara opened her eyes.

Chibi opened his.

For several seconds they said nothing.

Then:

MARA:
“Did you hear something?”

Chibi thought.

CHIBI:
“I don’t know.”

Mara nodded.

MARA:
“Me neither.”

CHIBI:
“Good.”

MARA:
“Why good?”

CHIBI:
“Because if I’d said yes immediately, you’d think I was making it up.”

MARA:
“Yes.”

CHIBI:
“And if I’d said no immediately?”

MARA:
“I’d think you were scared.”

CHIBI:
“I am a little scared.”

Mara looked at him.

MARA:
“Me too.”

Chibi seemed relieved.

CHIBI:
“Good.”

MARA:
“Why is that good?”

CHIBI:
“Because now I’m not doing it wrong.”

Mara smiled.

They looked back towards the celebration.

People were still dancing.

Still eating.

Still laughing.

The world had not changed.

But perhaps they had.

Only slightly.

Enough to listen differently.

Enough to wonder.

Enough to know that opening yourself did not mean throwing yourself blindly into whatever might be waiting.

It meant allowing the question to remain.

And being willing to live with the answer:

I don’t know.

Mara stood.

Chibi stayed seated.

MARA:
“Come on.”

CHIBI:
“Where?”

MARA:
“Back.”

CHIBI:
“To the party?”

MARA:
“Yes.”

He stood.

They walked several steps.

Then Mara stopped.

Chibi groaned.

CHIBI:
“What now?”

Mara looked back at the fountain.

At the remembrance lights.

At the empty place where the woman had been.

Nothing looked back.

Probably.

MARA:
“Do you want to try again?”

Chibi stared at her.

CHIBI:
“Tonight?”

MARA:
“No.”

He relaxed.

MARA:
“Tomorrow.”

CHIBI:
“That’s worse.”

Mara laughed.

Chibi considered it.

Then sighed.

CHIBI:
“Fine.”

MARA:
“Fine?”

CHIBI:
“Tomorrow.”

And that may be where the real threshold begins.

Not when you see a ghost.

Not when you cast a spell.

Not when something impossible happens.

But when you encounter something you cannot quite explain—

and instead of immediately believing it or dismissing it—

you choose to look again.

Do you dare?

CTA:

Have you ever experienced something you couldn’t quite explain and deliberately gone back to see whether it would happen again?

A sound.

A dream.

A place.

A coincidence.

A feeling.

Did paying closer attention help you understand it?

Did it make the experience stranger?

Or did you discover something about yourself rather than the world?

Tell us about the moment when curiosity made you look twice.

Explore Blades ’68 with Mythveil Chronicles.